January 26, Epiphany 3C (Luke 4:14-21)

I remember the moment so clearly. I was standing in the lobby of my dormitory my freshman year in college, on the pay phone, waiting for my mom to pick up. The voice of the overly confident, newly launched young adult who was ready to take on the world had been replaced by a much younger and smaller voice who I had not heard from since my elementary school days. “Mom, can I come home? I want to come home.”

She wired me money to catch the train, and I went home for the weekend. I attended school about two hours away, which made planned trips for holidays and semester breaks doable for my mother, a single parent. But this was not a trip that had been planned. The grown-up world became louder and more disorienting than I anticipated, and my anxiety-­stoked fear caught me in the midst of a stressful moment. The only thing I could think to do was to get to the place of my upbringing, the primary place of my formation, the place of familiar complexity, the place I called home.

It was a quick trip filled with ordinary activities: sleeping in my own bed, tastes of familiar foods, conversations with friends and loved ones who knew the shape of my humor and sound of my laughter, and the feel of rooms, spaces, and hearts that understood me. Less than 72 hours later I returned to campus. I was not completely convinced that I was ready to take the world back on, but I was grounded enough in and by the place of my beginning that it gave me the space and courage to take my next step. Home helped me to settle down just long enough to get a clearer perspective.